The Girl Who Cried Wolf(40)

My mother says nothing as he pours her a brandy. ‘Get that down you for the shock.’ Izzy and I laugh as he does an impression of her staggering around drunk, while my mother stares straight into the fire, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

***

I enjoyed Christmas Day but as usual Lillian’s dour face put a cloud over the festivities. I think she and my father must have argued over her drinking debacle, as she barely spoke during dinner, although she did try to make sure that Izzy and I had fun, and bought us some lovely gifts.

I opened my present from Michael while they all pretended not to watch, and was annoyed with myself for being a little disappointed with the book about American horses. But I didn’t dwell on it, and was comforted by the fact that he wanted me to learn about them as I would be visiting his stables in Northampton soon.

I smiled remembering how cross he gets when I call his ranch ‘stables’, but it seems so strange to have an American-themed facility in such demonstratively English countryside.

I couldn’t wait to go with him though; it would mean countless days, and more importantly nights, in the company of a man I had fallen deeply in love with. The three months we had known each other seemed like millennia, as though there had never been a time when I had not known and loved him. If any other boyfriend had bought me a horse book for Christmas I would have smacked them around the head with it, but not Michael. I sighed happily and hugged my present.

My mother smiled warmly. ‘You shall see him tomorrow, darling. I do like that young man; he has been so good for you and was a great comfort to me when you were in hospital.’ She jumped as my father dropped one his golf clubs and it crashed to the floor.

‘Izzy bought them, Father, but it was my idea,’ I said, delighted that we had pleased him with his gift.

‘Thank you, Annabel, and Izzy. Did you like your presents?’

My sister and I just looked at one another. Leona seemed to be losing track of our ages (and life-threatening illnesses) as this year she had chosen for us a pair of matching neon roller blades.

We both grinned and made happy noises that we loved our gifts; although I was actually overwhelmed by the beautiful Tiffany charm bracelet my mother had bought me. She bought Izzy a locket, which was also lovely, and I appreciated that she never bought us the same gift.

I gave her shoulder a little squeeze as I walk past her, and she looked very happy as I admire the bracelet on my delicate wrist.

***

I barely sleep through the night knowing Michael will be with me in the morning. I can’t imagine there is anything more delicious than lying alone in bed wishing your loved one was there with you. My body tingles as I remember his determined kisses and the confidence with which he made love to me. Despite the December chill, I am suddenly incredibly hot and throw back my blankets, knowing I won’t sleep. I sit dreamily on my wooden window seat and press my forehead against the cool window.

It is with much surprise that I see my mother in the little rose garden to the right of the meadow. The lights from the elm tree are just enough that I can see her kneeling by one of the little plants that have been lovingly covered from the frost, despite the fact there is still months until they bloom. I squint my eyes. She looks as though she may be praying. I am distracted by a noise on the landing and I hear my father whispering gruffly, ‘Lillian?’

I open the door and he looks startled to see me. ‘Why aren’t you asleep, Anna?’ Then he composes himself and adds, ‘Have you seen your mother? I woke up and she wasn’t there.’

I don’t exactly know why I don’t want him to find her, but I lie nonetheless. ‘I heard her downstairs; she must be getting a glass of water. Go back to bed, you look exhausted.’

Actually, he looks drunk, but he seems happy with my explanation and goes back to their bedroom. When I look past the meadow for a second time my mother has gone.





Chapter Eleven:


The Lady and the Labrador


Much to my parents’ dismay, after Boxing Day lunch I announce that Izzy, Michael, and I are going Jules’ and Eddie’s house for a party. Michael looks at his feet as Mother begs us to stay and tries to convince everyone that I am in no fit state to go. Her tone is defeatist though, as she sees the defiance in my eyes. Even Izzy had the sharp end of the tongue earlier when she told me I should not be wearing my wig.

I had held my hand up to silence her, and made her help me cover the scar with an adhesive bandage, muttering crossly, ‘As though I would go to a party looking like Frankenstein’s Monster.’

She eventually gives up and tells Michael to take care of me, and I only feel the slightest trace of guilt that she will be left alone for the afternoon as Father is going to a golf meeting where apparently wives aren’t allowed.

‘Do you think she’ll be OK?’ asks Izzy as Michael drives carefully through the snow. ‘I don’t know why you want to see them anyway today of all days. We could have gone with Mother to see Grandma and Grandad.’

I shrug my shoulders and look out of the window. I suppose I had felt very vulnerable the last time my friends saw me, and I wanted everyone to see I was much better, and one day I would be just like the old me again. I was still fragile, but underneath my wig my scalp was darkening with new hair, and with Izzy’s eyebrow magic and my blonde wig, I felt quite pretty. I smoothed down the black velvet of my fitted dress, knowing its figure-hugging style would leave no question in anyone’s mind that I was fashionably thin. I wanted to erase the image of Jules’ and Eddie’s unmasked horror when they saw me in hospital for the first time during chemo and replace it with mild envy at my present fabulousness.